"That boy will be the death of me," complained the older man to the woman. He shook his head in what could only be frustration. He was old. The lines on his face were furrowed deep with lines of laughter and worry in equal measure. Yet he looked young compared to the woman who sat across him. The two of them were inside a makeshift building. They sat on cushions while braziers burned perfumed oils to make this place smell a little, like not of the desert but, more like a garden of paradise. He never understood why she indulged in these small acts of self-service but then no man could ever ask a woman why she liked such useless things like perfume. And he would not ask this woman especially. His name was Akan Tor. He was the master of the watchers. His blue eyes shone with a shine that was almost as though his eyes were a source of light themselves. He was also one of the few watchers to be born to the noble line.

"What did he do this time?" asked the woman kindly as though she was speaking to an unruly child. She was ancient. She seemed to have become desiccated by time. Yet everyone knew that she was strong both physically and mentally. She was also the leader of this place. She was Sister Tor. She was the leader and like all of the nobility, she had brown eyes. The power given to these of the People was the power to command but the people rarely used that power. The people needed not such barbaric methods.

"It's not what he's done, sister, it's rather what he has to offer to our people. He has not the skill of the others. He fails to grasp everything that we teach except perhaps the hunt. He hunts remarkably well for one who is not much skill in anything else. I have an issue with the fact that he is not of us and he lives still. Sister, I kept my peace. I kept my silence when he was a whelp unable to survive the sands but one as inadequate as he must be sent away to make a place his own elsewhere. The people may not keep such a man with them. It spells doom for all of us with such an excuse for a human being here. All who live with the people must fulfil the roles offered to them. He has not the right to stay here since he offers nothing to us. It is the way of the sands. What is of no use to anyone must be cast aside for the good of all others."
"So that is the issue, isn't it?" said the old woman with a lilt in her voice that seemed to be from humour rather than worry as Akan Tor expected. "Tell me Akan, why are you so harsh on that boy? He may not be of the people by blood but he is still of the people. He is my son and insults to my blood can only be settled through the strength of arms. So tell me, Akan, will you fight me?"

When no answer was forthcoming, she continued speaking. "I guessed that you would not. But, I shall have to answer for him one day I suppose. I shall consider your talk the words of a concerned uncle and forget about the insult that it was. " The old woman was toying with him. He hadn't made her this angry in years. Her voice hadn't risen or dropped. She was still speaking in conversational tones. That was what made his blood run cold. He had known that she was blind to that boy's faults but this showed that even the great leader of Tor was a woman. Her son was always going to have a hold of her heart. Why could she not see the foolishness of having such a boy? He had forgotten the fear that he felt from the old woman when she was angry and her coldness reminded him of the danger of waking up this beast of a woman.

"My son is good at the hunt because he is a hunter. He doesn't learn of the other things because the things do not offer a prey to challenge. Have you ever showed him our methods while making him see it from the point of view of a hunt? Have you asked the best of us to reach him? I think not. You would not deem it worthy of any of your instructor's time to teach my son. I may not interfere too much with you but I know everything that is in my domain. I did not do anything then because my son said that it was not required. If he had not asked me that I would have had your head for such discourtesy. You are my brother but he is my son and you must remember an insult to him is an insult to me and the people will brook no insults even from relatives if the insult is too grave and this is no small insult you give me. However, is there a need for him to learn anything new? Our people have their roles. In fact, I think it would be better to let him be. He has suffered much as a child. You are aware of that fact, are you not?"

"I am but all of us suffer who are born from a mother's womb."

"Yes, Akan, I know but you haven't understood entirely the truth of the matter, he is of the people and the last I heard his hunts drew in most of the food for our worst summer this year. Yet no one acknowledges him because he has not the eyes nor the other baggage that the other hunters have. I have not acted on this information because he told me that what he was doing was normal and that there were others far better but both you and I know better, he is good at that one thing and not many can come close. A skill that is like that will be useful in the days to come.“

“The summers hit harder and last longer. The winters grow colder and give less comfort. A hunter of his calibre or better will be required. So that is my word on this. I will brook no objections. Then, I have a question for you, Akan, have you found out what the people of the north want from us?" She spoke well, he conceded in his head. She told in an ultimatum that her son would remain because they needed hunters at the very least as good as him and he knew it. None of their hunters could match the sheer skill of that cursed fool. No one would admit it to that boy. He simply didn't fit anywhere so they didn't want to remember that he even existed. Already she had gone to the next item for their discussion.

It was no small matter as well. The tribes of the north were of the people but one knew that even the people could scheme and deceive like the other humans. There was honour in tricking prey and there was no prey as mighty as the people. There was honour in this deed of playing one’s enemies like a fiddle and then vanquishing them. But there was no honour when it came to using underhanded tricks in a one-on-one duel. That was an odd dichotomy but it was one inherent to that of the people.
"I do, sister," the old man felt chastised. He couldn't argue. It wasn't that he hated the boy. It was merely that every one of the people had skills that fit into the larger scheme of things. They had their duties but the boy just didn't fit anywhere. Regardless, it wouldn't matter. The people from the north were here. Their intentions were far more suspect and far more of a danger than the uselessness of a single boy. After all, his issue with the boy was something that he could work on for longer at a slower pace. The other issue was far graver. "They are here for a strange reason."

"Strange? I do not understand when you call it strange. Tell me more, Akan. They do not leave the deepness of the northern wastes unless they had something to gain. They might be people but the last war between our clans was started by the barbarians in the north. They aren't like us, Akan. You may think that because they are like the people they will obey our laws. They are like people but they are harder in their thoughts than us. We are both sand and water. We are the starlight and moonlight. They are not us. They are the harsh sunlight and the death in the wind. They are what we may be when war comes and never goes. It is what we become when we forget that we are not only the searing sand but also flesh and we are not the desert's mercilessness. We are made of the mercy of the waters and that is one thing that should not ever be forgotten.“ For a moment, there was no old woman, there was only the powerful voice of a warrior-born. There was only conviction and power and in the next moment, it was all gone.